


Sleepwalkers

by thecoldesthit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Enemas, F/M, Femdom, Gags, Heavy BDSM, Incest, Medical Kink, Medical Torture, Object Insertion, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sensory Deprivation, Sounding, Torture, Waterboarding, blow torch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:59:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8313190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecoldesthit/pseuds/thecoldesthit
Summary: Mother knows best.





	

The scent of damp and bleach clawed at his nostrils, he was alone, for now, blindfolded and tied to a chair. He could feel the metal rings of handcuffs bite into the flesh of his wrists, his bare feet shackled with little slack to the ground below him. He struggled as his consciousness came back to him, trying to work out exactly how fucked he was.

The absolute silence that came when he was still did little to calm his nerves, it was unnatural. It consumed him, and left him raw with just the sound of his own ever increasing heartbeat ringing in his ears.

Then there was something else about this room that was somehow familiar, something that spoke to the very depths of his memory. It didn’t soothe him though, this was something that, if he let it would drive him to panic, he knew. It was like an imprint of a person, left behind, left to linger. 

Jasmine and ashes. 

In the back of his mind he expected it, could almost feel it. A primal part of his brain, or maybe that part of him that never was allowed to flourish, that childlike innocence Dean tried so hard to preserve. It ached as the scent filled his nostrils.

He felt the flames, the heat on his face, and the memory of her on the ceiling that no infant should've been able to understand, let alone remember.

Could taste the ashes. A smell one never forgets.

His heartbeat was thundering in his eardrums, his chest rising and falling rapidly with panic when the door finally opened. 

He froze.

The smell hit him full force as a gust of air penetrated the room. He heard the door click closed again, but this time he was not alone.

The light padding of bare feet on concrete betrayed her position. Sam tensed. 

Soft hands ran tenderly through his hair, a finger running down his forehead pulling the fabric from his eyes and taking in the curve of his nose, only to press in at the very tip. “Boop,” The voice was feminine and light and gave way to an airy giggle.

He didn't want to believe it. Even as he took in every detail, all the little things that had been burned into his mind after seeing the photos, looking at her, Dean telling him everything he remembered about her, seeing her spirit in Kansas years ago, he didn't want to accept it.

He desperately looked around the room, searching for any sign this wasn't real or that there were outside influences. An alter. Sigil on the walls. Hell, even a smirking archangel standing in the corner would've been better than the reality looking down at him with kind eyes. Familiar eyes.

“No.” He shook his head. Squeezed his eyes shut and took a cleansing breath, hoping that when he opened his eyes things would be different.


End file.
